


A hidden place between desire

by AndalusianSunshine



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Anal Sex, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, POV Multiple, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndalusianSunshine/pseuds/AndalusianSunshine
Summary: Sergio Ramos is an omega. It's La Liga's best kept secret.No one was ever supposed to find out about it, least of all Gerard Pique. But an ill-placed clasico and a chance encounter set off a chain of events that will change both men forever.
Relationships: Gerard Piqué/Sergio Ramos
Comments: 5
Kudos: 89





	A hidden place between desire

**Author's Note:**

> I've been dragging this idea around with me for years. Partly inspired by an old prompt on the footballkinkmeme. I wrote this all the way back in March, but never got around to posting it.
> 
> Title borrowed from _Knife_ by Kitten
> 
> I've been super busy the last few days, so the next chapter of Tonight the stars are falling got a bit delayed, but i promise it will be up soon.

Gerard's nose itches. It prickles and throbs and it just won't stop, no matter how much he scrunches or rubs at it. It's been like this ever since they got to the Bernabeu and it’s slowly starting to drive him crazy. Maybe he's well and truly allergic to that stupid club now. 

The thought makes him laugh.

It gets even worse when they line up in the tunnel. So much so that he begins to worry he might scratch his nose bloody before the match has even started.

Luis keeps looking at him funny, his gaze questioning, but Gerard can't really be bothered to care when there's a faint smell now too, something sickeningly sweet that's making his skin crawl in a not entirely unpleasant way.

He asks Leo about it, but he only looks at him like he's lost his mind, so he doesn't bother elaborating, tries to focus on the match instead.

It doesn't work out so well. The smell comes and goes and no matter how hard he tries, he can't figure out where it's coming from. He's so distracted by it, he earns himself a yellow card barely ten minutes into the match. After that everything becomes a bit of a blur and when the score is still tied at halftime he’s more than a little relieved.

The first thing he notices when they come back out onto the pitch is that Ramos isn’t there anymore. He's not on the bench either. There are confused murmurs and whispers all around him, everyone speculating what could possibly have made Sergio abandon a clasico and Gerard can’t stop wondering either. There was no sign of an injury, no risk of him being sent off. It doesn’t make any sense.

Thankfully the smell has faded a little at least. It's less pungent now, less prominent and yet it still lingers, still makes his nose itch, a constant nuisance at the back of his mind. Even if it's easier to focus now, less distracting. That is until Casemiro scores ten minutes later and so does Karim. 

Meanwhile Leo doesn't score.

They fight and they run and they don't give up because losing is just not an option, especially not against Real Madrid and they're so close to scoring now. Until Vinicius pops up out of nowhere, ball at his feet and nothing between him and Mats except green grass and wide open space and Gerard knows he has no other choice.

He trudges off the pitch, head hanging, before the referee even pulls out the card. Jordi pats him on his back and Busquets gives him an approving nod, but he still feels like he let everyone down. If only he hadn't been so distracted.

The moment he steps into the tunnel the smell is back in full force, like a punch to his gut, his skin crawling with a longing he’s never experienced before and it’s almost like his body is pulled along by a string, an invisible force he’s helpless to resist, dragging him through the winding corridors of the Bernabeu until he finds himself in front of the Real Madrid dressing room, pushing through the heavy doors before he can stop himself.

He glances around the dimly lit room and he doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it’s definitely not Sergio sitting in front of his locker, slouched-over and trembling.

“Are you ok?” he asks, his voice echoing eerily in the empty room, doesn’t understand the wave of concern suddenly sweeping through him.

Sergio looks up slowly, his eyes the most vibrant shade of golden Gerard has ever seen. A sudden rush of want curls in his gut and God he’s never felt this stupid in his life as realization slowly dawns on him.

He digs his nails into his palms and he knows he should turn and run, but instead he takes a deep breath, almost greedily savoring the unmistakable scent of an omega in heat.

*

The sound of Gerard’s voice feels like a bucket of ice-cold water, a heavy silence unfurling between them, growing and growing until it feels like it’s going to suffocate him and Sergio can only watch helplessly as realization unfolds in Gerard’s eyes.

"You're an omega?" Gerard asks, his voice incredulous, like he still can't quite believe it, even with all the evidence right in front of him.

Sergio looks at him through tired, blood-shoot eyes. "Yeah," he nods weakly, searching Gerard's face for the telltale signs of pity and disdain, the ridicule he loathes so much, but there's nothing but the usual mixture of annoyance and grudging respect in Gerard's eyes, the same look he always gives him whenever they meet. “You should get out of here while you still can," he forces out between clenched teeth and God it's frightening how much he wants Gerard to do the exact opposite, how much he wants to roll around in Gerard's scent.

"Fuck," Gerard groans, running his hands through his hair, eyes already getting dark. It's suddenly painfully obvious that they're alone in the room. 

Gerard takes a step forward, his whole body wavering towards Sergio, but he stops himself just in time, holds himself in place by sheer force of will, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles in his neck are bulging.

And Sergio knows just how much that small gesture is costing him, when Gerard's delicious scent is so powerful that his whole body is aching, screaming for him to arch towards Gerard and offer himself. He curses himself for not getting out of there sooner, when he knew from the very beginning that it was a bad idea to stick around until the end of the match, but he was too careless, too greedy to witness their victory. “Geri,” he grits out, his voice pleading and he’s not sure if he’s begging for Gerard to run or to stay.

Gerard’s eyes narrow, his gaze becoming predatory. "You want some help with that?"

And fuck it's a tempting offer, especially in his current state, with his dick so hard it's starting to ache and maybe it wouldn't be so bad, letting Gerard help him through his heat just this once. They’ve always respected each other, even when they didn’t get along and Sergio knows without a shadow of a doubt that Gerard would never betray his trust, that he’d keep his secret safe. Plus he’s nice to look at, Sergio has seen him in the showers often enough to know it would be memorable.

He licks his lips hungrily, mind made up. “Not in here,” he says, voice steady but already raw with need and when Gerard’s fingers close around his wrist and tug him off the bench, bringing their bodies tantalizingly close together, so close Sergio can feel the heat radiating off of him, his knees almost give out and maybe it was naive to believe they’d make it all the way to Sergio’s place in his current state, with his body strung so tight he feels ready to explode.

As it is they barely make it down the corridor into an abandoned storeroom, the door not even fully closed behind them when Gerard’s hands land heavy on Sergio’s hips.

The whole room is dusty and packed with boxes, the bare lightbulb on the ceiling giving off a dull flickering glow, but Sergio can’t focus on anything but Gerard’s impossibly dark eyes and the insistent erection pressing against his thigh, so thick and long it has his head spinning with possibilities.

"Don't even think about marking me," he threatens, just as Gerard tugs his pants and underwear down, leaving him in nothing but his jersey and his football socks. "This is just a one time thing."

"Fine with me," Gerard growls, his eyes the darkest, most vibrant shade of blue Sergio has ever seen as he leans forward and nips at Sergio's lip, taking his mouth in a hard kiss. 

It's nothing but a flurry of hungry touches and ragged gasps after that, the last of Sergio's thoughts finally drowned out by the familiar haze of his heat when Gerard shoves him up against the door, pinning his hands above his head as he fumbles with his pants, only pushing them down enough to free his throbbing erection.

Sergio lets out a pained groan when the tip grazes his naked ass, leaving behind a wet trail of pre-cum and he feels like he’s been on edge for days, slick already dripping down his thighs.

"Come on," he pleads, expecting teasing touches and Gerard's fingers prodding at his entrance, already has the pleading words sitting at the top of his tongue, but instead Gerard just shoves into him whole and Sergio lets out a happy whail.

It’s rough and fast and unrelenting and exactly what Sergio needs, Gerard ramming into him with punishing thrusts, his hands so tight he can already feel the finger-shaped bruises forming around his wrists and he’s hurtling towards the edge at a dizzying speed.

"Pull out," he barely manages to force out and God he's so close already, so close to tumbling into oblivion and he absolutely loves the feel of Gerard inside of him, loves how full and stretched out he makes him feel. 

But he's not that far gone that he's going to let Gerard knot him. 

Not even when Gerard pulls out and he feels so empty his entire body is screaming for him to shove back inside. He balls his hands against the door and bites down on his bottom lip, digging his teeth into the soft flesh until he tastes blood, pained little gasps escaping him as he listens to Gerard stroke his dick and when he finally comes with a rough grunt, all over the curve of Sergio’s ass, his hot cum coating Sergio’s tender skin, he’s all but ready to forget about his dignity and his pride and beg Gerard to fuck him all over again, but just then Gerard spins him around and drops to his knees and his mind completely blanks when Gerard takes him into the hot heat of his mouth.

*

They end up spending the next three nights at Sergio's house, because once is not nearly enough to sate Sergio's heat and they might as well finish what they've started. And it's nice, Gerard thinks, sharing a heat with Sergio, uncomplicated even. He's not a fussy omega, he doesn't need coddles and soothing words, gives as good as he takes. They watch football, they eat and they fuck. A lot. They don't even bother putting on clothes anymore after a while. Sergio is nice to look at when he's naked, with his hard muscles and colorful tattoos on full display and it's easier like that, when he can just climb on Gerard's dick as soon as another wave of need hits him.

In a way Gerard almost feels a little sad when Sergio’s heat finally passes, when they wake up in the morning and Sergio’s eyes are their natural shade of dark brown again, his hands neatly folded by his side instead of roaming all over Gerard’s skin.

“Thank you,” Sergio mumbles, looking up at Gerard through heavy-lidded eyes and Gerard feels a surge of pride rush through him at the happy and sated expression on the omega’s face.

“You’re welcome,” he replies and he’s dying to ask a million questions. _Why did he never tell anyone? Why keep it a secret for all these years?_ But he can already see that guarded look returning to Sergio’s eyes, can sense him withdrawing into himself, so he bites his tongue instead and rolls over onto his side. “Wanna get some coffee?” he asks, figures if he’s just patient enough he might get some answers eventually.

*

Sergio hates being off his suppressants. It makes him feel irritable and on edge. He misses the times when his heat used to be easy, manageable, when he could schedule it twice a year, during off-season and no one would ever find out. Now it's this unpredictable thing constantly at the back of his mind, never quite ebbing away and ready to hit at a moments notice, at the most inconvenient of times. And of course the next time he goes into heat is two days before their next Champions League match.

When the team doctor tells him there's no other way than to sit out the match, it's the easiest decision he's ever made.

He's barely through his front door when he calls Gerard, sweat beading at the back of his neck, lust already curling deep in his gut. "I'm in heat," he says, because he's never been particularly good at asking for help, especially not from someone like Gerard.

"Do you want me to come over?" Gerard asks, voice void of any emotion.

"Yes."

Gerard is on him the moment he opens the door, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing his pants down, a big hand wrapping around Sergio's dick before he’s even said hello, murmuring his greetings between hungry kisses as they stumble their way up the stairs to Sergio’s bedroom.

He spreads him out on the bed, his hands unrelenting as he pushes his legs apart and shoves up into him and Sergio would be more ashamed about how needily he's clinging to Gerard, nails digging welts into his back, but Gerard only holds him tighter, pressing down on him in all the right places and it feels so much better than toys and porn and his own hand.

It's easier to sate his heat this time, because Gerard knows exactly what his body needs, maybe even better than Sergio does himself and two days later he's at the Bernabeu, leading his team onto the pitch for another memorable Champions League night.

*

When Sergio goes into heat again two months later, Gerard is in his car before he’s even answered the call, only too willing to help Sergio out again and again and again, but while it’s the easiest thing in the world to fall into bed together, it’s not as easy anymore to keep the questions at bay, the ones that keep nagging at the back of Gerard’s mind whenever he’s alone.

“Is this gonna become a regular thing?” he asks one night, when they’re taking a break from fucking, both freshly showered and eating pizza.

Sergio shrugs. “It’s working, no?”

Gerard nods, doesn’t understand why he feels so strangely disappointed. “So are we just not gonna talk about it then?”

“About what?” Sergio looks up, wipes his greasy fingers on a napkin.

“About you being an omega and no one knowing about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Sergio snaps. “It’s nobody’s business but mine.”

Gerard groans, but bites back the response lying at the tip of his tongue. He should have known it would to be a touchy subject with Sergio’s temper and he’s not stupid enough to provoke an omega in heat, especially not one as stubborn and strong-willed as Sergio. "Does anyone else know?" he asks instead, trying to steer the conversation back into safer territory.

"Of course not," Sergio snorts derisively. "Well, Perez knows. He has to spend a fortune every month on high-end suppressants."

Gerard frowns. "But you're not on suppressants now."

Sergio huffs out an annoyed breath. "The Doc says my kidneys are gonna shut down if I don't stop taking them."

"Oh," Gerard cocks his head thoughtfully. "So why not just tell people? There are plenty of omegas in football now."

"And have everyone look at me differently? No thanks, “ Sergio shakes his head. “I’ve worked too hard on my reputation to throw it all away now.”

"I'm not looking at you any differently."

“Yeah, why is that?” Sergio’s expression is challenging.

Gerard shrugs. “Because you’re still the same person you were before i knew?”

“Thanks,” Sergio answers, his voice tinged with regret. “I just wish everyone would see it that way. But we both know it’s not like that.”

Gerard doesn’t know what to say to that, but thankfully Sergio saves him further awkwardness when he pushes back from the table and reaches for Gerard’s hand, his eyes flickering golden again.

*

And it was never supposed to become a regular thing, but of course it does, because being with Gerard is easy. it's uncomplicated. He doesn't have any expectations and that's just how Sergio likes it. He never has to pretend to be someone he’s not, to be nice, when he'd rather trade insults, to be gentle, when all he wants is to fight back until they’re both bruised and clawing at each other.

It’s on a rainy November morning when Sergio lets Gerard knot him for the first time. His heat is already at the edges of flickering out when he rolls over on the sofa and straddles Gerard’s lap, sinking down on him with a content groan, their movements more languid than anything as they rock against each other, none of the usual urgency of a heat left when Sergio leans down to press his nose against Gerard’s pulse point, greedily breathing in his scent and he could stay like this for hours, he thinks, if it wasn’t for Gerard’s skillful hands so easily pulling him apart at the seems. 

And it’s the easiest thing in the world to let himself get lost in the tantalizing slide of their bodies, in how good it feels to have Gerard fill him up so utterly and completely and when he feels his orgasm approaching, sizzling down his spine and making his eyelids flutter, he’s not strong enough. He doesn't want to be strong enough.

“Don’t pull out,” he begs, his voice barely more than a growl and when, only a heartbeat later, he feels Gerard’s knot spread inside of him, he tumbles over the edge with a broken sob.

*

Maybe Gerard should have seen it coming, should have expected that it wouldn’t just stay like this, that things would inevitably start to change, but he’s still surprised when he gradually finds himself following Sergio’s matches, paying attention to things he shouldn’t and it’s ridiculous how his chest tightens every time he watches Sergio hug a teammate, how his gut coils with nausea at the close contact and there’s suddenly a possessiveness inside of him he’s never had before and none of it makes any sense except now he finds himself counting the days to Sergio’s next heat.

And somehow it’s the quiet moments he suddenly craves, the little bouts of calm and peace, when hungry hands and frantic movements are replaced by soft caresses and languid touches, no insults or jokes, just the two of them lying next to each other, trying to catch their breathes.

But he knows he could never confess any of this to Sergio, not if he doesn’t want to put their arrangement in jeopardy, so when Sergio looks up at him one night, his eyes a bit too perceptive as his fingers inch towards Gerard’s dick again, even though Gerard’s knot has just managed to slip out of him mere minutes ago, his tattoos still covered in sweat and cum leaking out of his ass, Gerard bites back the words of endearment threatening to spill out of him, forces a teasing grin on his face instead. "Are you just using me for my dick?" he asks, tugging on Sergio’s hair and trying to bury that fuzzy feeling deep down in his chest.

"Maybe," Sergio grins wantonly, leaning over to lick a long wet stripe along the underside of Gerard's soft length. "It's a damn fine one."

And Gerard is sure he couldn’t possibly get hard again, but when Sergio's plush lips close around his length, he's more than ready to go again, willing to give Sergio whatever he’s asking for if only he can keep him for just a little longer.

*

Sleep has never been an easy feat to achieve the night before a clasico. With all the excitement and anticipation that comes with a match like this, Sergio is used to spending more time tossing and turning than actually sleeping, but now with Barcelona sharing the same hotel it's infinitely worse. He's hyper aware of Gerard's presence, a restless energy thrumming through him that has him pacing his room, trying to tire himself out so he can finally get some sleep and yet when Gerard suddenly knocks on his door he's still caught completely off guard.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe with his ankles crossed, trying to hide how unsettled Gerard’s presence makes him feel.

“Wanted to check on you,” Gerard rubs the back of his neck. “I read you hurt your shoulder. Are you gonna be able to play tomorrow?”

Sergio gives him a pointed look. "Careful or I might think you actually care," he laughs a little unsteadily.

"I do care."

Sergio raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him. "Are you serious right now?"

Gerard smirks. "Well, clasicos are only half as fun when I can't kick your ass."

“Fuck off,” Sergio grins back and for the first time that night he doesn’t feel as on edge anymore.

“Can i come in?”

Why?”

“Because i can’t sleep.”

“Whatever,” Sergio shrugs and steps aside and that's how they end up awkwardly standing in the middle of Sergio's hotel room, resolutely staring down at their own feet.

"Now what?" Sergio asks, absentmindedly rubbing at his aching shoulder.

"How bad is it?" Gerard asks, his gaze far too inquisitive for Sergio’s liking.

"Just a bit sore," he replies quickly, but apparently he's a terrible liar because Gerard only glares at him disapprovingly and pushes him down on the sofa.

"Let me have a look," he says, his voice commanding and his hands warm on Sergio's skin, rubbing and kneading, forcing a soft moan from Sergio’s lips as Gerard’s thumbs start digging into his stiff muscles and yes, ok, maybe this wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

He arches even more into Gerard’s touch and God it feels heavenly, the way his muscles begin to loosen, a comforting warmth spreading through him as Gerard’s hands travel down his spine, pressing down in all the right places, a startled gasp escaping him when Gerard’s lips join his fingers, mouthing along the curve of his neck and Sergio doesn’t mind the added intimacy, welcomes it even, too content and pliant to resist.

When Gerard's hands finally slide down the back of his sweats he feels himself tremble all over. It's the first time they're going to have sex without Sergio being in heat and he's sure it can't possibly be as intense without that uncontrollable passion and lust flaring between them.

But if anything it's more intense, now that his mind isn't clouded by need for once, now that he can concentrate on Gerard's every little touch and Gerard is taking his sweet time, kissing down every inch of his body, exploring him so thoroughly that no place is left untouched and when he finally joins their bodies, it's better than anything Sergio could have ever imagined.

Later he wishes he could blame his heat, could blame the haze and the lust, but his mind is nothing but clear when he tilts his head to the side, when he lets Gerard suck a purple bruise into the tender skin of his neck, right where a bonding mark would sit.

He barely knows where to look when they finally pull apart, his cheeks flushed and the throbbing on his neck a constant reminder of the line they just crossed.

"I'm sorry," Gerard mumbles, shyly rubbing the back of his neck and he looks as uncomfortable as Sergio feels.

"Not your fault," Sergio shrugs, rolling out of bed to pull on a pair of pants.

Their eyes meet in a silent agreement never to talk about it again.

"I should probably leave," Gerard says and Sergio nods, knows it's the sensible choice even if a part of him wants just the opposite.

*

He wasn't in heat and it wasn't nearly deep enough to be a bonding mark, hell Gerard didn't even break skin, yet Sergio still can't stop running his fingers over that spot, even long after the bruise has faded, can't stop thinking about Gerard, can't stop wishing, hoping, wondering.

The next time he goes into heat, he doesn't call Gerard. He locks himself up in his house and deals with it like he used to for all those years, before this thing with Gerard ever started. 

It used to be enough to sate the omega side of his nature, but now it's pure torture, it's the most painful thing he's ever had to endure and by the time he's finally made it through, he feels the opposite of sated. He's worn out and exhausted, tired beyond measure.

*

When Gerard shows up on Sergio’s doorstep one night, he hasn’t heard from him in over four months, not so much as a call or a text and he knows even with his erratic heat cycle, Sergio must have gone into heat at least once. 

“So are you just not going to call me anymore?” Gerard asks the moment Sergio opens the door, not particularly in the mood to bother with pleasantries.

Sergio steps aside, gesturing for Gerard to follow him into the house. “Didn’t know I was required to.”

“You’re not,” Gerard sighs. “I was just…, with your heats and all… i was wondering how you’re holding up,” he trails off, unable to meet Sergio’s gaze, wonders how obvious it is that the mere thought of Sergio spending his heat with someone else makes him sick to his stomach.

“I’m fine,” Sergio leans against the wall, his voice almost too calm. “No need to worry.”

“You sure?” Gerard does look up then, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Sergio’s blank expression. “I’ve watched you, you know. You’ve been playing like absolute shit for weeks now.”

Sergio crosses his arms in front of his chest. “What are you trying to say?”

“I think you’re trying to hide from what happened in Barcelona.”

“And what exactly happened in Barcelona?” Sergio snorts. “It was just biology,” he says dismissively. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Bullshit,” Gerard spits out, frustration starting to bristle under his skin. “You know as well as I do that I didn't mark you, I didn't even bite you. You don’t get a residual bond from a fucking hickey.”

“Whatever,” Sergio shrugs. “It’s not like this whole thing was gonna last anyway. Now’s as good a time as any to end it.”

“So, what? This was nothing but a casual fuck to you?” Gerard snaps, struggling to keep the hurt out of his voice.

“Something like that.”

“You know what i think?” Gerard takes a step closer and he’s furious now. All the anger and frustration of the last few weeks, months even, bubbling out of him all at once. “I think you’re scared because you know you can’t blame this one on biology. You craving my dick when you’re in heat,” he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “That’s something you can neatly chalk up to your omega nature, but the fact that you almost let me mark you when you weren’t even in heat, that’s something completely different. That’s not biology, that comes from here,” he stabs his finger at Sergio’s chest, right above his heart. “And that scares the shit out of you.”

Sergio huffs derisively. “Didn’t know you were a psychologist now,” he snaps and turns away, stomps out of the room, but Gerard isn’t done with him yet, not by a longshot. 

"Have you never wished for more?" he asks, persistently following Sergio into the kitchen.

"Like what?" Sergio leans against the counter, arms folded in front of his chest and glaring angrily. Gerard has never seen him look this hostile.

It makes him want to push even more, knowing he’s finally breaking through Sergio’s shields. "Like a mate?" 

Sergio shakes his head dismissively. "I'm not giving up my career for a mate."

"What if you didn't have to?"

Sergio shrugs. "People would still treat me differently. it's just how it is."

Gerard huffs out an annoyed breath at Sergio’s stubbornness. "What if no one knew you were bonded?"

Sergio snorts. "No alpha is gonna take a mate and then not stake his claim."

"I would."

Sergio's eyes widen in a mixture of disbelief and surprise. "Are you saying you wanna bond me?"

Gerard grins. "It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

Sergio laughs humorlessly. “How very romantic of you."

"I'm being serious, you know. We're both compatible. We’re good together. I know you feel it too and nothing would have to change. i wouldn't ever force you to do anything you didn't want to."

"So what? You’re just going to wait for years until i’m done playing football?” 

“If that’s what it takes,” Gerard shrugs. He always knew it wouldn’t be easy to get through to Sergio.

“You say that now,” Sergio’s eyes flash with pain. “But we both know in a few years you’re gonna be tired of waiting. You’re gonna be tired of me and where does that leave me then?”

Gerard sighs. “Has it ever occurred to you that i want you just the way you are, even if it means i’ll have to be patient and wait?” he steps towards Sergio, reaches out to touch him, but Sergio pushes his hand away. 

“You’re lying to yourself if you think this would ever work out,” Sergio shakes his head tiredly. “I think it’s better if you leave now.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Gerard sighs, but there’s really nothing else he could possibly do right now to convince Sergio, so he turns to leave, hoping all the way to his car that Sergio will change his mind and run after him.

He never does.

*

It takes two weeks for Sergio to come to his senses and gather enough courage to pick up the phone and call Gerard. Two agonizingly long weeks where his heart hurts so much he can barely breath and football becomes the last thing on his mind, because all he can think about is Gerard.

"Did you really mean it?" He asks the moment Gerard answers.

"Sergio, it's two in the morning," Gerard yawns tiredly. "What do you want?"

Sergio feels his stomach drop. "Sorry, I bothered you," he snaps and hangs up. If Gerard doesn't want him anymore, fine, he's not going to degrade himself by groveling. He doesn’t need a mate anyway. He doesn't need anyone. 

He jumps violently when his phone suddenly starts to ring. "What?"

"You're a stubborn idiot," Gerard’s voice is equally amused and exasperated and Sergio feels his heart clench with longing. "What did you want to ask me?"

Sergio takes a deep breath, tries to calm his temper. If he screws this up, he might not get another chance. "Did you really mean it?" he forces himself to ask again, waits nervously for Gerard’s answer.

"You have to be a bit more specific,” Gerard says softly, like he’s trying not to spook him.

Sergio swallows thickly. He hates being vulnerable. “Did you mean it when you said you’d wait for me?”

‘Yes,” Gerard answers without hesitation, his voice full of affection and Sergio feels an unfamiliar warmth spread through him. “I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

Sergio hums thoughtfully, can’t quite keep the hopeful smile off his face. “It’s gonna be years until i retire, you know,” he adds, not because he wants to, but because he needs to be absolutely sure Gerard knows exactly what he’s getting himself into.

“Are you trying to scare me off?” Gerard chuckles.

“No, just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Sergio fiddles with the hem of his shirt, unsure of what to say and it would be so much easier if they could have this conversation face to face. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“I know that,” Gerard sighs. “But you’re worth it.”

Sergio doesn’t know what to say to that, his heart suddenly so full with love it feels ready to burst. 

“Sergio?” Gerard asks after a while, when the silence has stretched on for too long.

“Yeah, I….”

Gerard chuckles softly. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

*

Gerard rolls over in the rumpled sheets and he can’t stop smiling at the sight of Sergio’s sleeping form, spread out on the covers and completely dead to the world.

It’s been almost a year since they’ve properly started seeing each other. In secret of course, sneaking around away from prying eyes and while it hasn’t always been easy, Gerard wouldn’t change it for the world.

He lets his fingers trail down the slope of Sergio’s neck, softly stroking the spot where his bonding mark should be and a part of him still resents that there’s nothing but pale skin, that he can’t mark him properly yet, but there’s a new tattoo now, just above Sergio’s shoulder blade, safely hidden away between all his other ones, right where Gerard’s hand is resting and his thumb is caressing the swirling letters of his own name.

And for now that’s enough.


End file.
